Baby I'm Right Here
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: A collection of slash drabbles. 1-MarcusOliver, 2-BartyRegulus, 3-Deamus, 4-CaradocRabastan, 5&15-EdgarFabian, 6-PercyCedric, 7-Scorbus, 8&10&14&16-Wolfstar, 9-CharlieSalazar, 11&13-Deamus, 12-Perciver, 17-Drarry, 18-FredLee, 19-DeanPiers,
1. MarcusOliver

Written for Hogwarts' Writing Club - Showtime: Say No To This: (word) Blackmail, the Comic Book Day Event: Forbidden Love, the Love in Motion Event: MarcusOliver and the Roald Dahl Day Event: Sneaky pecan pie - Write about a Slytherin.

 _Word count:_ 666

* * *

 **honey we were never meant to last**

Something inside Marcus' chest shatters when he sees the pictures spread out in front of him. Malfoy smirks, ugly and smug, and Marcus wants nothing more than to destroy him, to show him that here, his name may be great, but his deeds should matter just as much as his father's reputation.

Almost against his will, Marcus' fingers trace the glossy paper, where two figures are entwined closely, hiding their faces in the shadows.

Even so, their embrace is unmistakeable, as is their identity. It makes his heart ache, to realize that he was a fool, to believe they could ever have this.

""I wonder," Malfoy says, grin wide and mocking, "what the team would say if they knew you were… fraternizing with the enemy. A Gryffindor, no less," he adds, and the disgust in the voice of a boy so much younger than he is shouldn't hurt this much, shouldn't feel like being stabbed in the heart.

"What do you want?" Marcus asks, scowling. He forces his pictures to steady over the pictures—even now, he can't stand the idea of ruining them, even though he knows that whatever he and Oliver shared in those pictures is now ruined.

"I want to play Seeker," Malfoy orders, eyes an icy grey. He's already won and he knows it, but Marcus will be damned if he doesn't make him work for it anyway.

"Then you should try out," he bites back. "If you're as good as you think you are, I'm sure that won't be a problem for you. Slytherin, you see, only takes the best."

Malfoy's eyes burn with cold fury and he barely manages to restrain a snarl. "Then I'm sure you won't mind if I hand these pictures to your other teammates. After all, they deserve to know what their captain is up to, when he stays behind in the changing rooms."

For a glorious instant, Marcus considers cursing this blond bastard—imagines having him writhing in pain at his feet. Marcus bets he wouldn't look so smug, then.

"That won't be necessary," Marcus hisses, heart pounding in his chest, pulling the photographs to his chest. He stares down into Malfoy's grey eyes, and he hates. "I expect you to be there on time for our next training session—those will be posted in the common room."

Malfoy eyes the pictures Marcus is holding with contempt for a moment, before his eyes flick back up to his face. "You can keep these. I have plenty of copies—but I'd suggest ending such… relations between you and that Gryffindor." He smiles, a nasty thing full of teeth. "Or don't. It's always nice to have someone I can count on to be on my side."

"Yes," Marcus replies through his teeth, thinking of sun-kissed skin hot against his own, of warm lips stealing the breath from his mouth and of a boy who says he hates him but always knows what to say to make Marcus' mind go quiet. He doesn't know if he can lose that. "Yes, it is."

"Glad to see we're on the same page, Flint," Malfoy replies before leaving, strutting out of their common room like he owns the place.

The room is nearly empty, now, and no one is paying Marcus any attention. He lowers the photographs back on the table, lungs heavy in his chest.

The boys in the pictures are happy. Marcus had never thought about how they might have looked to outsiders—he's never given thought to the feelings blooming in his chest whenever he and Oliver sneak away together, stealing precious moments away from the world, but it is so clear to see here that it hurts.

Love is written on every curve of their bodies, on every shy smile and laugh blossoming in between ardent press of their lips, and Marcus feels like a fool for not seeing it before he has to make it end, for ever thinking they could make it work.


	2. breathe (BartyRegulus)

Written for Hogwarts' Charms Assignment: Sleeping Beauty!AU, (word) breathless, the Love in Motion Event: RegulusBarty, the Writing Club - Restriction of the Month: Write about Death Eaters, and the Around the World Event: Russia - (character) Regulus Black.

 _Word count:_ 603

 **breathe, and you'll see me again**

The first gift Regulus ever gets is a pocket watch. It's a beautiful, ornate thing set in gold, and it always fits in his pockets perfectly, a cold, heavy weight against his skin.

"It's to keep track of time," his parents tell him as they hand him the gift, unwrapped. It's stuck on midnight when Regulus opens it, and he doesn't get it.

"It doesn't work," he says, ready to hand it back to them. It's beautiful, maybe, but what use does he have for something that does not work?

"Just press the button at the top," his mother replies, laying a trembling hand on his shoulder.

 _(that should have been the first clue_ — _his mother's hands never tremble: Walburga Black is never afraid of anything, as all proper Blacks should be)_

Shrugging, Regulus does, and the most extraordinary thing happens: the little golden hands of the watch start spinning. His mother's hand tighten on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, son," his father whispers. "So sorry."

His mother avoids his eyes and stares hatefully at Sirius instead.

Sirius, his brother, who is pale as a sheet and crying.

Sirius never cries.

"What's wrong?" Regulus asks, dread pooling in his stomach.

"Nothing," the all reply, but Regulus doesn't believe them. "Nothing at all."

.

There is a curse on the House of Black—a dark curse (as if there is any other kind)—and with every generation, it takes one of them.

The watch—that gift Regulus admired so much—is the only way to know who it will be.

And this time, it chose Regulus—Regulus, who will never see his eighteenth birthday.

At least, not while awake.

.

Regulus joins the war because if he's cursed to sleep his life away, he wants to do something with the year he does get, something important, something that matters to people.

And the Dark Lord's cause? It matters to his family.

 _(and it leads him to Barty_ — _the only person he will ever love)_

.

"How long do you have left?" Barty asks him one night as they wait for a raid, because of course, he knows about the curse, even though Regulus never told him—even though Regulus would never tell him.

"I don't know," Regulus replies, while in his head he says _Two months, three weeks, seventeen days and thirteen hours_.

 _(they were right: the watch does help him keep track of time)_

"You're lying," Barty replies, and under the yellow lights of Muggle streetlights, he looks like an angel—or perhaps a demon, sent to damn Regulus' soul to perdition (as though he hadn't done that to himself already).

"Always."

.

Here's what Regulus doesn't know—what no Black knows; the curse, like any and all curses, can be broken.

It only takes a bit of Light magic—True Love's kiss, in fact—but that isn't something they can ever do.

Darkness stains their soul, always, no matter their choices, and no amount of Light can chase that away entirely.

.

Regulus makes sure he's with Barty when his time runs out. "If your face is the last I see," he whispers, already breathless from the spell that drains his life away, "I shall be happy."

Barty smiles, the sad but true twist of his lips he only ever showed to Regulus. His skin, pressed against Regulus, feels warm, like sunlight on an autumn day.

"I wish we had more time," he whispers back, voice choked up.

And Regulus cannot answer him out loud, but his eyes do it for him anyway. _Me too._

.

 _(but just because people say it's impossible doesn't mean you shouldn't try)_


	3. let this grow (Deamus)

Written for the Around the World Event: Slovenia - Character: Seamus Finnigan.

For Amber, who asked for DeanSeamus and a garden.

 _Word count:_ 779

* * *

 **let this grow into something beautiful**

There's a garden at the back of Seamus' house. It isn't big—there's barely enough room for the swingset his parents installed when he was seven—but as a child, it still seemed enormous, like he had access to an entirely different realm in his backyard.

It feels different, now. After the war, Seamus sees the world differently, and when he looks at the garden of his childhood all he can think is that he'd give anything to turn back time and gain back those years.

He doesn't notice Dean's joined him until he feels a hand snake against his, a warm palm pressing against his skin as Dean entwines their fingers. His grip is so tight it's almost painful, but Seamus welcomes it right now. It feels real in the way few things do these days, and Seamus hangs onto that feeling with something akin to desperation.

He wants to look at Dean, to take in his stupidly perfect face and breathe him in—to remind himself that he lived, that they both survived this war against all odds—but it feels like such a weighted action would ruin the careful balance of this moment.

Instead, Seamus keeps staring at the garden. The grass is a dry yellow brought on by the summer heat, but the hedges circling the place look as healthy as ever. A small breeze is making the swing move a little, an oddly mournful groaning sound echoing through the air as it oscillates.

"It really hasn't changed," Dean finally says, shattering the silence in a way that makes Seamus shiver. He sounds a little stunned, almost as though he had actually expected Seamus' garden to have changed since the last time he was there.

"Why would it have?" Seamus replies, but even as he speaks, he thinks he gets it. The last time Dean came to visit was last summer; before he had to run away and spend a year hiding. His heart constricts painfully as he realizes that Dean probably didn't think he'd ever come back here.

"No reason," Dean replies with a snort.

Seamus smiles softly. He feels lighter, with Dean by his side. It feels almost like the old days; before they learned what war was.

* * *

They're lying on the ground on a misshapen conjured blanket. Seamus' mother never was very good at Transfiguration, though she makes do— and as Dean would say, at least _her_ attempts don't always end in explosions and fire.

They're cloud-watching, but Seamus can't quite focus on what he's supposed to see when he can feel Dean's thumb running slow circles on the back of his hand.

The touch anchors him, and the rays of sunshine falling over them seem to banish every ounce of the darkness that sometimes feels like it's lingering in the corner of Seamus' soul. They leave only a soft kind of warmth behind.

Here and now, with Dean by his side, it feels like nothing bad can ever touch them.

Maybe that's why Seamus turns his head and kisses Dean. It's just a quick press of the lips, nothing to talk about, but it feels like more. Seamus' breath catches in his chest and his lips tingle.

Dean stares at him, frozen. His eyes are open wide with surprise, and Seamus feels himself flush.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry," he babbles, scrambling to put some distance between them. His cheeks feel like they're burning. "I didn't mean to-" but he _did_ "-I shouldn't…"

They're still very close—Seamus can't truly bring himself to part from Dean, even as he feels like the ground should open up and drag him under. It'd be a kinder fate than having to suffer through Dean's rejection.

To his surprise, Dean starts laughing. It's not a mocking laughter though—no, it's the warm, fond one he gets whenever Seamus is being ridiculous, and the ball of stress brewing in Seamus' stomach immediately starts to unwind.

Lips twitching into a smile, Seamus swats at Dean's arm. "You're an ass."

Dean just smiles back.

After a short pause, where Seamus can't help but lose himself a little in Dean's warm brown eyes, he speaks again. "So… Was that okay?"

Dean laughs, leaning forward. The sun, falling over him, makes his skin glow with an earthy light. "Yes, Seamus, it was okay. But," he adds, suddenly looking mischievous, "I think we could use more practice. Don't you?"

Seamus' heart skips a beat. He licks his lips. "I… Yeah, practice, definitely."

All the kisses that follow are even better than the last.

Still, Seamus is pretty sure that their first one will always have a special place in his heart.


	4. Liar (CaradocRabastan)

Written for Hogwarts' Around the World Event: Armenia - Setting: Astronomy Tower and the Pairing the Character Drabble Competition - RabastanCaradoc.

 _Word count:_ 250

* * *

 **Liar**

"I don't like this place," Rabastan said, overlooking the dark expanse of the Forbidden Forest with an uninterested gaze. The sky was overcast so no stars were visible, but the full moon's shine was still bright enough to pierce through the cloud cover, washing everything in a pearly white glow that made the world look far more quiet and peaceful than Caradoc knew it to be.

"You never like anything," Caradoc replied with a barely hidden snort. He sat on the edge of the tower, legs hanging well over the edge and into the void. Even without any stars, it was easy to see why this place had been chosen to serve as the Astronomy classroom. It simply was perfect for it.

Caradoc was drawn out of his musing by the sound of Rabastan shifting around to face him. His eyes, dark and bottomless, held a white shine from the moonlight, and his skin looked almost sickly pale.

He was still the most handsome boy Caradoc had ever seen, and Caradoc just wanted to kiss him.

The moment stretched, Rabastan looking at Caradoc like he didn't understand him, Caradoc looking at Rabastan like he was holy—or rather, _un_ holy as it were.

Finally, Rabastan spoke, his voice rough and low, bringing heat to Caradoc's stomach. "I like _you_ ," he said. "You said I don't like anything, but I liked you."

Caradoc dragged him into a kiss so he wouldn't say the words pooling in his mouth like sour beer.

" _Liar_."


	5. A Fortuitous Meeting (EdgarFabian)

Written for Hogwarts' Insane House Challenge: Pairing - Edgar/Fabian, the Yule Ball: Asking Out Your Date - Write a meet-cute, the 365 Prompts Challenge: Era - Marauder, the Writing Club: Showtime - Only Us - (restriction) Write a fic with only 2 characters (cannot mention any others), Count Your Buttons: (object) Scroll, (word) pretty, Restriction of the Month: Task: No characters older than 20 year old, (word) smile, the Fanfic Resolution Challenge: Write a fic set in Marauder era, Dragon Appreciation Month, the Sticker Challenge: Werewolf - Write about someone who carries a heavy burden and the Bath Bomb Challenge: Cherrybomb - Write about a redhead who isn't a Weasley or Lily Evans Potter.

 _Word count:_ 720

* * *

 **A Fortuitous Meeting**

Honestly, Edgar had been sort of asking for an accident with the way he had piled up books and scrolls higher than he could see and then insisted that he could walk back to the Hufflepuff Common Room on his own.

But it wasn't his fault he had forgotten his bag there, or that this latest Potion essay asked for so much research. Edgar had already had to look through so many books he might as well have been a Ravenclaw, and he didn't fancy staying all day in the Library when he could work just as well outside, where there was actual sun, or even in his own Common Room, where the seats weren't murder on the back to sit on.

So no, he couldn't see where he was going — not that it mattered, since he knew the path well after six years. The only times he got lost nowadays where when he wanted to get lost, or when the stairs tried to trick him into leaving on the wrong floor.

By his estimation, he was halfway there when he suddenly collided with somebody, the shock violent enough to send him down, his book pile collapsing on and around him, some of the heavy tomes hitting him painfully.

He sat there, stunned, until a hand appeared right in front of him.

Edgar took it and let himself be pulled up, his words dying on his lips as he found himself staring at a red-haired boy with clear blue eyes and a devastating grin.

"Hi," he said, voice strangled, instead of the rant on watching where one stepped he had initially planned.

"Hi," the boy replied. His eyes sparkled with mirth as he looked down for a moment, and Edgar realized with horror that he was still holding onto his hand. He let it go suddenly, cheeks flushing red.

Edgar recognized him now. This was one of the Prewett twins. How had he never noticed how handsome they were before?

"I'm sorry," they both blurted out at the same time, a fact that had them chuckling softly.

"It's fine," Edgar replied. "Though I'm not sure the Librarian will appreciate me 'hurting her books'." He rolled his eyes at that, pleased to see that the notion seemed as ridiculous to the Prewett boy as it was to him.

"I'm Edgar, by the way," he introduced himself.

"Fabian," the boy replied, his grin making Edgar's heart skip a beat in his chest.

He bent down to gather Edgar's fallen books and scrolls, and Edgar's mouth ran dry. Somehow, he managed to drag his eyes away from the lines of Fabian's body — somehow perfectly visible despite the unflattering cut of their school robes — but it was no easy task.

"Here, let me," he finally said, taking his wand out of his pocket. A quick spell later, everything was tidily piled up again and a _Locomotor Mortis_ had said pile hovering beside him.

Unfortunately, that this also meant that Fabian had to stand back up though. What a shame.

"Pretty and clever," Fabian joked, winking. "I must have done something right in a past life."

Edgar snorted. "I wouldn't go that far. If I were really clever, I'd have thought to levitate those books before I got stuck with carrying them."

Fabian shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, but then we might never have met. And wouldn't that be a tragedy?"

Again, Edgar's heart tripped in his chest. "I'm sure we would have met eventually," he managed to say. "The school isn't that big."

Fabian shuddered dramatically. "Let's hope so — in the meantime, would you mind some company to wherever it is you're going. We could get to know each other better."

Edgar grinned back. He mentally weighed Potions homework and talking with a boy he liked, and found that he much preferred the first option.

"Sure — I was just going to put these away, we could go outside for a while afterward though?"

Fabian nodded. "That sounds perfect."

"Perfect," Edgar echoed, and he forced himself to walk a little faster.

The sooner they got back to his Common Room, the sooner he'd be rid of these books and free to just… hang out with Fabian.

And who knew? Maybe they wouldn't just _talk_.


	6. amongst all the things (PercyCedric)

For Amber's Valentine Day Drabble Collection: PercyCedric - Anniversary, and Hogwarts' 365 Prompts Challenge: Event - Anniversary, the Insane House Challenge: Character - Percy Weasley, the Fanfic Resolution Challenge: Write a story in a style you've not used before, the Dragon Appreciation Month, the Writing Club - Character Appreciation - Theme: Unrequited love, Showtime: Sincerely, Me - (style) Letter fic, Count Your Buttons: (word) claim, (character) Percy Weasley, Sophie's Shelf - (style) Letter fic, Book Club - Dekka Talent: (trope) unrequited love, (word) gravity, (genre) friendship, the Yule Ball Event: Listening to Someone Dull at Dinner - Write about Percy Weasley, the Sticker Challenge: Quill - Write a letter fic.

 _Word count:_ 387

* * *

 **amongst all the things I never said**

 _Dear Cedric,_

 _I don't know why I'm writing you this letter. Or rather, I do, but I would rather not admit to it._

 _You'd laugh at me for that. I just know you would. "Lighten up, Percy," you'd say. "Having feelings isn't such a bad thing."_

 _But it can be. When it meant having feelings_ for you _, it was. I wish I had gotten the chance to tell you that._

 _And I know you only ever saw me as a friend. That this was all you could do. And it meant the world to me, I assure you, that you would take time to spend with me, even when you were also busy with… other things._

 _Those afternoons spent together at the Library, quietly working on our respective projects, remain some of my fondest memories. Do you… No, that's a stupid question. You can't even answer it, anyway. You're… gone. Dead. Ashes on the wind, only preserved in my memories._

 _And, oh, Cedric, but those memories are fading. I woke up this morning, and I couldn't remember the way your eyes looked when the sunshine hit them just right. Last month, I'd forgotten the way your laugh sounded._

 _I got them back, those precious little moments, but doubts have gnawed at me ever since — am I even remembering them right anymore? Or did my mind make something up to fill the void?_

 _Will I wake up one morning, having forgotten everything that matters about you? What will fade next — the mock gravity with which you looked at me when we talked about the future, the way your lips pulled just a little more to the left than to the right when you smiled?_

 _There are so many things I could lose — so many things I cannot_ bear _to lose._

 _So, yes, I know why I'm writing you this letter. You know how I've always claimed that putting my thoughts on paper helps me._

 _But no, I also don't understand why I'm doing this, or how this still helps, when you've been gone for so long already._

 _Five years today. I guess this makes for a sorry anniversary gift, doesn't it?_

 _Maybe I'll visit your grave this year then. Leave this letter there. It might be the only way you could get it, after all._

 _Love, always,_

 _Percy._


	7. Oops (Scorbus)

For Amber's Valentine Day Drabble Collection: AlbusScorpius - "I thought you knew.", and Hogwarts' 365 Prompts Challenge: Era - Next Gen, the Insane House Challenge: Pairing - Scorpius/Albus, the Dragon Appreciation Month, the Writing Club: Book Club - Sanjit Brattle-Chance: (word) invincible, (character) Albus Potter, (emotion) infatuation, Count Your Buttons: (character) Scorpius Malfoy, (dialoque) "I do", the Sticker Challenge: Cup - Write about forgetting something, the Yule Ball: Sniggering at the Teacher's Dancing - Write about a humorous occasion, the Fanfic Resolution Challenge: Write a fic set in Next-Gen era.

 _Word count:_ 498

* * *

 **Oops**

"What do you mean, you're 'going to the Ball with Lily'?" Albus' mouth run dry. His ears were ringing — there had to be a mistake.

But Scorpius only shook his head apologetically. "Look, I don't know who you're going with, but Lily's too young to go unless someone older asks her, and since I didn't have a date yet, I told her I'd take her."

He sighed. "I know you Potters have this weird thing about keeping her 'safe', but it's just a dance, and it's _me_. You know me, Al. You know you can trust me. I'm not going to, like, deflower her or something." He crossed his arms defensively, his stormy eyes daring Albus to say anything.

"But," Albus said, feeling so desolate his eyes started to burn, "I thought we were going together."

Scorpius startled, his mouth opening and closing slowly. He frowned, and Albus could see the cogs turning in his mind — honestly, half the reasons why he loved the blond so much was how clever he was.

"I don't… Why did you think we were going together?" Scorpius asked, throwing his arms out in an odd, confused gesture.

Albus cast his mind back to the last couple of months, when they had learned Hogwarts would host a Yule Ball again this year.

He had dreamed of going with Scorpius so many times, and he knew Scorpius wanted the same. All those glances, all those moments where Albus was sure that, if not for the interruption of one of his meddling family members, they would have kissed.

He knew he hadn't just imagined that.

And then it hit him. "Oh crap," he said, wishing the ground would open and swallow him up. "I forgot to ask you."

"Forgot to ask me what?" Scorpius asked, still frowning. He stepped closer. "Al, are you alright?"

" _No_ ," Albus moaned. "I forgot to ask you to go with me to the Ball, and now you're going with my sister. My _sister_ , Scorpius!"

Scorpius winced, but his cheeks flushed. "You… You wanted to go with me?"

"I thought you _knew_."

"How?!" Scorpius asked disbelievingly.

Albus flailed, cheeks burning. "You, you — argh, you _always_ know! It's like, your thing."

"I don't have a _thing_ ," Scorpius protested. "And I'm not omnipotent — I can't always know everything. Certainly not if it's all happening in your head."

He sighed, deflating a little, and his hand came to rest on Albus' arm. It felt warm and comforting, and Albus' heart tripped up in his chest.

"Look," he said, biting his lips. "I promised your sister I'd take her to the Ball, and I keep my promises, but I don't have to spend the night with her. I — We could, you know, hang out?" The last words came out strangled, but Albus barely noticed over the sound of the blood rushing through his ears.

"Really? You'd want that?"

Scorpius nodded quickly, grinning. "I do."

Albus beamed back, feeling invincible. "Awesome."


	8. Boyfriend (Wolfstar)

Written for Hogwarts' Weekly Tea Challenge: Nutty Chocolate - Write Sirius/Remus, the Ancient Rune Assignment - Task 2: Write about someone facing his/her fears, the Dragon Appreciation Month, the 365 Prompts Challenge: Location - Hogwarts, the Insane House Challenge: Pairing - Sirius/Remus, the Sticker Challenge: Lion - (Trait) Brave, the Writing Club - Showtime: Waving Through a Window - (action) Waving, Restriction of the Month: no character older than 20, (quote) "The secret to happiness is freedom... And the secret to freedom is courage." - Thucydides.

Word count: 666

Boyfriend

"The secret to happiness is freedom...  
And the secret to freedom is courage." - Thucydides

Remus wiped his hands on his legs for the third time in the last five minutes and valiantly resisted the urge to start biting his nails.

He could do this. This was Sirius, and they were going out to Hogsmeade — nothing they hadn't done a million times before.

Nothing scary about that.

A little voice in his mind whispered that this was actually quite different from all those times, but Remus forced himself to shut it up. Viciously.

So what if this was a date? They had both agreed — Sirius was one of his best friends first. He couldn't jeopardize that. They couldn't jeopardize that.

He wiped his hands on his legs again and took a deep, steadying breath. He had promised Sirius he would give this a try, and after everything the other boy had done for him, this was certainly the least he could do.

The fact that Sirius always knew just how to make his heart race did also factor into his decision — in his defense though, Remus didn't believe there was any sane human being able to resist Sirius' charm. At least not for long.

Yes, he thought, nodding to himself, he could definitely do this. He would do this.

Even so, he almost turned right back around the instant he saw Sirius, waiting for him by the carriages. He probably would have, actually, had James not noticed him and waved him over with a cheerful greeting.

"Remus, hey! Don't worry, I'm not sticking around," James said with a laugh and a wink. "Just making sure this one," he clapped Sirius' shoulder meaningfully, "doesn't skip out on you."

"James," Sirius moaned, cheeks flushing red. "I wasn't going to 'skip out'."

James huffed. "Sorry, sorry. I should have said 'leave in a manly and totally justified way'. Is that better?"

He turned his head to face Remus, nodding with mock sadness as Sirius spluttered dramatically behind him. "Are you sure you want to do this? Lily and I would have you, you know."

"James! Stop trying to poach my boyfriend!" Sirius shouted, swinging an arm around Remus' shoulders. "I saw him first."

Remus' cheeks burned, but oddly enough, he felt his nerves vanish as he fell into more familiar banter. "Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?" he asked Sirius, arching an eyebrow at him. "We haven't even been on a date yet."

Sirius spluttered again, pulling his arm off Remus' shoulders — he already missed its warmth — and drawing his hand to his heart, acting wounded.

Remus' lips twitched and Sirius' eyes narrowed. "Wait," he started, a wide grin spreading across his face, "you're having me on again, aren't you? Aren't you? We're totally boyfriends!"

"Yes, Sirius, we are," Remus replied, unable to deny the fluttery feeling in his chest any longer.

James snorted, and Remus abruptly realized their friends hadn't left. "Well, looks like you kiddies have this well in hand." He winked lewdly. "I guess that means I should leave you to it…"

"YES!" Remus and Sirius shouted at the same time, and James retreated with a laugh.

"Have a nice date, guys! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" And with that, he climbed aboard his own carriage.

Remus almost expected the atmosphere to shift back to awkward now that James had left, but it didn't. It shifted, certainly, but for the best.

It became charged with a low current that made Remus shiver and his heart skip a beat, but it wasn't unpleasant.

No, he thought as he climbed in after Sirius, his eyes drifting down his back, admiring the smooth lines of the muscles he could spy even through the cloth, it's definitely not unpleasant.

Maybe he could get used to this boyfriend thing.

Boyfriend. The word made his heart race and Remus smiled to himself.

And as the carriage started moving, his hand found Sirius' and held on tight.


	9. of fortuitous meetings (CharlieSalazar)

Written for Hogwarts' Auction Challenge: CharlieSalazar, Scavenger Hunt: Write a fic about a slash pairing.

Also for the Writing Club: Lyric Alley - And so surreal.

 _Word count:_ 897

 _ **of fortuitous meetings**_

Honestly, Charlie didn't know why this had happened to _him_ of all people.

One would think that working with dragons would keep him safe from things such as _time travel_ — indeed, if _someone_ from his family or acquaintances had to be swept up in that particular mess, he'd have expected it to be Bill, as the one who actually stumbled upon odd, cursed artefacts for a living, or perhaps Harry, who seemed to have the worst luck in the magical world.

Though now that he thought of it, Charlie was pretty sure he was becoming a strong contender for that title, seeing as he had somehow stumbled upon a time traveling device that _wasn't_ a Time Turner and had conveniently vanished when Charlie had appeared whenever and wherever the heck he was.

All this _while_ working at the dragon reserve, mind you.

Perhaps his mother had had a point — would have a point? — when she said his job was too dangerous.

But personally, Charlie rather doubted the time travel had any link to the dragons — which he missed fiercely — and at least there, no one had tried to burn him for witchcraft.

Not even the dragons.

But at least he had company on the pyre — now Charlie just had to wait for the flames to rise so he could safely Apparate away.

Thank Merlin for History of Magic classes — something he had never thought he'd say — for letting him learn about Gwendolyn the Weird or whatever her name was, and more importantly about her flame-freezing spell.

That cast, he turned his attention to his companion. He looked bored to death already, a feat, as he was simultaneously sending death glares into the gathered crowd shouting and cheering for their execution.

"You looked oddly relaxed for a man about to be burned to death," Charlie noted.

The man's eyes snapped to him. They were very dark, Charlie noted, and very deep. Like inky pools of darkness, and he fought back a shiver.

Right, _pyre_. Time travel. Now was not the time to find a stranger attractive.

"I could say the same of you," the man retorted dryly, though his interest was betrayed by the curious glimmer in his eyes.

Charlie shrugged as best he could with the ropes tying him to the rod. "Well, I've been in worse situations before. And I have a plan. I'm guessing you have one too? Feel like sharing it with me?"

The man hummed. "I have a… friend," he said, lips pulled into a distinctively fond expression that Charlie had seen more than once on his siblings' faces, usually directed at another sibling. It was an expression that said _I love you but dear Merlin I wish I didn't sometimes_. "He should be here any minute. What about your plan?"

"I know a spell," Charlie replied. He figured that if they were both about to be burned for witchcraft anyway, he probably didn't have to hide. "I won't feel the flames, and I'll be able to Apparate away."

"A clever idea," the man said, nodding regally, though something flashed in his eyes at the mention of the spell. "Still, I'd rather not have them light the flames while we're still here."

Charlie agreed. But still… "I could cast the spell on you, if you'd like?" he offered. "In case your friend is late?"

The man looked surprised. "You still have your wand?"

Charlie nodded.

"Then why haven't you used it to escape?"

Charlie winced. "Well, for one I'm not about to risk cutting these ropes with a spell when I could just as easily slit my wrists. And for two, I don't really recommend trying to Apparate while tied up unless you want to get splinched." He winced. That had not been a fun night. "I figured the flames would take care of that for me."

The man eyed him for a moment. "I see," he finally said. "Very well, then. You may cast your spell on me. But," he said before Charlie's lips could start to shape the incantation, "I would have your name beforehand."

Charlie blinked. "My name?"

"Yes."

"I'm Charlie. Weasley." It occurred to him then that maybe going by his real name while in the past may not be the cleverest idea, but it was too late to take it back now.

"Well me, Charlie Weasley. I am Salazar Slytherin." The man's lips pulled into a sharp smirk. "Now, please, cast your spell — and then I will cut your ropes."

Charlie's brain froze, but another caustic remark from Salazar — _Salazar Slytherin!_ — had him quickly cast his spell.

He felt the sharp coolness of a blade rest against his wrist soon after that, and inhaled sharply, but all Salazar did was cut his ropes.

This was weird, Charlie decided. Weird and uncomfortable.

Nobody had ever said that Hogwarts' evil Founder was hot and clever, and pretty much Charlie's type.

Now he only had to hope that the man didn't like dragons, or Charlie was doomed.

And then he remembered that Hogwarts' motto mentioned a dragon, and he decided that, whatever, he was in the past. With possibly no way back to his present — the future? Time travel was confusing.

He was possibly stuck here forever — he might as well try to change a few things while he was around.


	10. the things that matter (Wolfstar)

Written for Hogwarts' Writing Club: Disney Challenge - C6, Bashful: write about someone blushing, Shannon's Showcase: 27 - (trait) stubborn, Book Club: Tootles - (emotion) nostalgia, (event) birthday, (plot point) running errands, Showtime: 33 - I Know Him: (action) laughing, Amber's Attic: Slash 1 - Wolfstar, Count Your Buttons: C5 - Remus Lupin, Lyric Alley - 1: I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight, Ami's Audio Aspirations: 13 - Comedy: write about someone who is funny, Em's Emporium - Greece 3: The donkeys - (trait) easygoing.

Also for the Seasonal Challenges: Days of the Year - July 20 2018: Moon Day - write about Remus Lupin, Gryffindor Themed Prompts: (trait) lively, the Insane House Challenge: Action - Arguing, the Funfair - Northern: Sophie's Ice Cream Stall - Walnut - Sirius Black & Chocolate Chilli - Remus Lupin, Eastern: Penny Slot Machine - 9: Sirius Black, 11: Remus Lupin, 65: (emotion) joy and Hamilton Mania: Act 2, 20 - Making the most of your life - (emotion) Happiness.

Also posted on the Drabble Tag thread, where Laura gave me Wolfstar and "This is a terrible idea."

 _Word count:_ 673

* * *

 _ **the things that matter**_

"This is a terrible idea. I'm telling you, Lily won't like it — and we both remember what happened the last time you did something Lily didn't like, " Remus said, staring at Sirius pointedly.

Sirius shivered. He pushed past his unease, however, as he stared at the toy broom in the shop window before them. "But Moony," he replied with a whine and pleading eyes, "it's _perfect_. You know Harry will love it. I'm his godfather, I should get to spoil him."

"Somehow," Remus retorted dryly, "I don't think feeding into his love for high places will endear you to Lily. Or James."

Sirius pouted.

Wait, en _dear_ …

He gaped. "Was that a pun?"

Remus' lips twitched. "What was what?"

On anyone else, that innocent look might have worked, but Sirius had known Remus for too long — and been the victim of too many of Remus' ' _I don't know what you mean_ 's when Sirius asked him if he had seen the last piece of chocolate cake he had saved up for himself — to still get fooled by it.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. Remus smiled at him fondly, and Sirius' breath caught in his chest.

It still took him by surprise, sometimes, that he got to have this.

He laced their fingers together tightly and stared back at the flying toy, swallowing past the sudden knot in his throat.

"I'm getting it," he stated. "If you'd like, we can even say it comes from the both of us. We both know you're practically Harry's honorary godmother anyway," Sirius added, only half-joking about the last part.

Lily and James' reluctance to pick a godmother for Harry bordered on the ridicule by now. Sirius suspected they actually enjoyed thinking of Remus as such as much as Sirius himself did, but since they knew Remus would never accept the position — supposed dangerous nature and all that — they didn't try.

It would explain why he hadn't heard of them considering anyone new in the last few months.

Well, that, and Remus' face was always hilarious when Sirius pointed out his 'status'.

Remus snorted and shook his head. "No thanks. I'll get my own gift for Harry. Something sensible."

Sirius laughed. "He's too young for chocolate, you know."

Remus' offended face only made him laugh harder. "Nobody's too young for chocolate! But if you must know," he added, scowling a little, "I wasn't planning on getting him chocolate." It was very clearly a lie.

Remus' annoyance died quickly, however. His angry huff turned into a cut-off giggle that only made Sirius grin wider.

"Stop doing that!" Remus protested.

"Doing what?"

" _You know what_ ," Remus hissed.

"I'm sorry, but you've been giving everyone chocolate for the past five years. Excuse me for not trusting your gift-giving skills."

"My gifts are just fine — and I recall you _loving_ that chocolate," he added, sending Sirius a smoldering look that made him swallow the wrong way.

Catching his breath took him some time. Remus was, of course, no help whatsoever — he tried, in his defense, but he had started laughing so hard he nearly fell over when he tried to tap Sirius on his back.

"You're lucky I love you," he said hoarsely, once the coughing fit had passed.

Remus smiled back fondly. "Go get that toy — but don't expect me to protect you when Lily comes after you when Harry starts to break all the furniture!" he shouted as Sirius started to go into the shop.

"Wouldn't dream of it!" he shouted back, biting back a chuckle.

He was still grinning when he paid for the toy — even though Remus was probably right, and Lily _would_ have his hide if Harry started zooming around the house on his little broomstick.

Well, Sirius would just have to keep it hidden when he was babysitting.

James and Lily were probably getting bored with being unable to leave the house for long anyway. They should thank him for bringing some… spice into their lives.


	11. fireplace

Written for Hogwarts' Writing Club: Amber's Attic - Slash 5 - Deamus, the Northern Funfair: Sophie's Ice Cream Stall - Irish Cream - Seamus Finnigan & Butterbeer - Dean Thomas.

 _Word count:_ 405

* * *

There is this sofa, in the Gryffindor Tower, that Dean has basically claimed for himself. It's right by the fireplace, and it's the perfect place to draw — warm, and comfortable. It's one of his favorite places in all of Hogwarts.

It is, however, not quite designed for two people to sit in. Especially when one of those two people seems determined to get out of the somewhat acceptable position they had _finally_ managed to get into.

" _Seamus_!" Dean yelps as his boyfriend's elbow digs painfully into his stomach. " _What are you doing_?"

"The fire's gone out," Seamus retorts, like his contortionist efforts relate to that so very obviously in his mind he needs no further explanation. "I was going to light it up again."

Dean has a horrific vision of Seamus trying to light the fireplace and causing the entire room to catch on fire instead, and he shouts out, "No!" before he can stop himself.

Seamus freezes, legs thrown over Dean's lap.

Dean blushes furiously, and at Seamus' confused look, blurts out, "I mean, it's late, if the fire's out, maybe we should leave too. Go to bed. No need to light any fire." He chuckles nervously, and Seamus sends him another weird look.

"Riiight…" Seamus says dubiously. "But I thought you wanted to finish your drawing."

Dean chuckles nervously again and forces himself to shrug. "Well, you know, the lighting's pretty poor at this time of night anyway, and my eyes are tired. This is probably a sign we should, you know, move."

"You sure?"

Voiceless, and desperately trying to avoid looking into Seamus' eyes and to keep some distance between their legs — the Common Room is not the place for this — Dean nods. "Yeah."

With a sigh and a somewhat mournful nod at the fireplace, where dying embers barely glow anymore, Seamus finally moves away.

"Come on, we can go see who snores the loudest — Ron, or Neville."

Dean lets himself be pulled up with a laugh. "You know it's always Ron," he retorts as they walk up the stairs.

"Wanna bet on that?" Seamus wiggles his eyebrows, and Dean muffles yet another laugh.

"You're so eager to lose?" he asks.

Seamus shrugs. "I don't know. I figure you could make it interesting." He winks, and Dean feels like dying.

And even though he's just claimed to be tired, he's suddenly never felt more awake in his life.


	12. hogsmeade (Perciver)

Written for Hogwarts' Funfair Events: Northern - Sophie's Ice Cream Stall: Marshmallow - Percy Weasley & Chocolate - Oliver Wood, Eastern: Penny Slot Machine - 2: Percy Weasley, 65: (emotion) joy, 71: (quote) "it doesn't matter if the cup is half full or half empty, because there's water in the cup".

Also for the Writing Club: Disney Challenge - C5: Grumpy - Write about someone grumpy. Alt, write about someone with a kind heart, despite their harsh demeanor, Showtime 13: Wait For It - (character) Percy Weasley, Count Your Buttons: C3 - Oliver Wood, Lyric Alley 13: Look into your eyes And the sky's the limit.

 _Word count:_ 557

* * *

"I can't believe you dragged me here," Percy mumbled, tugging at his red and gold scarf so he could breathe.

Outside, it had been too cold not to wear it, but Honeydukes currently housed enough students to raise the inside temperature to the point where Percy felt like he was melting.

Oliver rolled his eyes at him and, through their joined hands, tugged him along toward a nearby stand.

Surprisingly — or perhaps not, since Oliver could be incredibly thoughtful when he wanted to — that stand didn't have as many people hovering around it as some of the others. It was a chocolate stand, and not one of the newer ones, which Percy supposed explained that.

Unsurprisingly, however, those chocolates were Quidditch-related, and Percy found himself smothering back a laugh.

"Of course. You had to find the one Quidditch-related sweet in this shop, didn't you?"

Percy's words may have seemed harsh but his tone was fond. Oliver smiled back, somewhat sheepish, before the chocolate charmed Quidditch set caught his attention again.

Percy couldn't really blame him. It was a gorgeous piece of magic — and knowing Honeydukes and their chocolate, a delicious one. His mood soured a little as he glanced at the price — there was no way he'd ever be able to afford this. Not today, anyway.

But one day… One day, he would be able to — and then he'd buy Oliver all the chocolate Quidditch sets his boyfriend could ever want.

Today, however, he might have just enough for the brooms part of the set.

Later, they munched on them as they trudged through the snow.

"See?" Oliver was saying, grinning as he bumped their shoulders together. "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"

Percy's lips twitched up. He swang their hands between them, eyes wandering around the snow-covered village before coming back to Oliver's face. His cheeks and nose were flushed red from the cold, and Percy loved him so much it hurt.

"It was… acceptable," he finally said.

"Acceptable," Oliver repeated slowly, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

Percy sighed, his lips inexplicably twitching up into another smirk. He felt light. "You know what I mean."

Oliver's eyes softened. He raised their linked hands and pressed a kiss over the back of Percy's hand.

It would have been more romantic if they hadn't both been wearing gloves, but Percy's heart flipped over in his chest nonetheless.

"I do," Oliver finally replied, staring straight into Percy's eyes.

"I wouldn't mind doing it again," Percy said, going for nonchalant and probably ending up with awkward instead.

But Oliver still grinned back like Percy had given him the world — or rather, the Quidditch Cup.

They walked back to the carriages after that, and Percy let Oliver talk about his plans for Gryffindor's next Quidditch match.

It was oddly soothing, and just like that, he realized that he wanted this forever.

"Say, Oliver," he started to ask as the carriage started off, "would you —"

Oliver's eyes snapped to him, curious and wide. He trailed off in the middle of hs sentence. "What is it?"

Percy's words dried up in his mouth. "Nothing. You were saying, about the Chasers?"

Oliver gave him one last considering look before he resumed his explanation, but that was fine. They were young still. barely seventeen. They still had time.


	13. make a wish (Deamus)

Written for Hogwarts' Funfair Events: Northern - The Ghost Train: Compartment 14 - Quote: 'Just when I think I have learned the way to live, life changes.' - Hugh Prather, and for Writing Club: Disney Challenge - S1: I'm Wishing - Write about someone making a wish, Showtime 10: Helpless - (plot point) love at first sight, Lyric Alley: 28 - A couple of college credits and my top-notch brain, Lo's Lowdown 12: Marius: write about love at first sight.

And for the Summer Challenges: Gryffindor Themed Prompts - (character) Dean Thomas.

 _Word count:_ 791

* * *

Dean finds the lamp in his favorite's shop.

Well, maybe shop is too strong of a word for it. It's more of a permanent garage sale disguised as a shop, really. He's seen pawn shops that were better kept than this — and he would know. Dean frequents all the pawn shops in his area. They're his favorites.

But out of all those weird and unusual place, Sal's Bazaar is his favorite. It's the place where he gets most of his inspiration, and he never fails to visit whenever it runs dry or if he has a big project to hand in for school.

It works every time, and his teachers praise his work as 'inspired' and 'authentic'.

But a lack of inspiration isn't what brought him here today. No, today Dean is just browsing. He's not looking for anything in particular, not the way he is whenever school gets in the way, anyway, and that's when the lamp catches his eye.

It's stupid, really. It's just a cheap genie's lamp, the metal tarnished and discolored in places. The price tag indicates that it's way more than it deserves, but a quick check to his wallet shows that, while expensive for what it is, it still remains well within Dean's budget.

And… Well, he wants it. The moment he sets his eyes on the lamp, Dean has wanted to hold it, to _own_ it. It's a curious feeling, but it makes his hands twitch for a paintbrush or even a pen, his mind suddenly buzzing with ideas of sketches.

Sal, the owner — a seemingly ageless man who never says more than he has to — accepts Dean's bills and hands him back the change with a slight smile.

"Take good care of him," he says as Dean leaves, and for an instant, Dean could almost swear Sal had been talking to the lamp.

.

The thing is, everyone knows about genie's lamps. Everyone. Aladdin was Dean's favorite movie as a kid, and though he hasn't seen it in years, he still remembers most of the songs — and some of the dialogues — by heart.

But knowing is one thing. Having it happen to you is another entirely, since, as everyone knows, magic isn't a real thing.

And yet, when Dean gets home and borrows whatever chemicals his mother uses to take care of their silverware to clean up the lamp, the last thing he expects is for the corrosion to disappear and reveal a scrawny handwritten message, etched onto the metal.

The letters are scrawny, so small they're hard to parse out, but Dean's spent years learning to read his classmates' handwriting — for entirely honest reasons, of course — and he finally manages to read out the message.

"Make a wish," he whispers, tracing the letters slowly. He can feel his eyebrows rise.

Right. He'd just bought some fake genie's lamp — but at least it's pretty. It'll fit in well in his room, he thinks, and he's already planning what he can draw using it as inspiration.

He intends to put down the lamp, he really does, but… _Make a wish_. The words linger in his mind.

It's not real, of course not, but _what if it was_?

What kind of wish would Dean make?

What would he ask for?

He has no idea, and that's why he doesn't let go of the lamp.

"I wish… I wish…" He finds himself muttering, pacing in his room. He hears his mother start working in the kitchen, and inspiration strike. "I wish my mother could be happy again."

Ever since his father — ever since his father passed, Dean's mother has been… different. Or well, not different. At all. In fact, she's even cheerier than before — but that how Dean knows that it's all just a facade, and he's scared of what will happen when it all crumbles down, when he lets himself think about it.

He doesn't have much time to today, however, as the lamp suddenly heats up in his hands, reaching almost scolding degree in an instant.

Dean yelps and drops it, cursing.

But the lamp never hits the ground. About midway there, it shifts, and turns into a golden cloud.

And out of the cloud, comes a man.

Well, a boy, really, who can't be much older than Dean himself. He has messy sandy blond hair that stands on ends, almost like he's just stuck his finger in an electric socket or blown himself up, and a pale skin that looks like it could use more sun.

He's pretty, but more than that — he has a kind, mischievous smile, and Dean's stomach drops.

 _Crap_. The stories never mentioned the genie being so good-looking.


	14. pride (Wolfstar)

Written for the Writing Club: Lyric Alley - 6: Everybody's dancing and the band's at top volume, Emy's Emporium: France 3. The winding streets: (setting) alleyway., the Eatsern Funfair - Ferris Wheel: 12 - (relationship) friends, the Summer Challenges: Shay's Musical Challenge:The King and I - write about learning something in an unexpected place, Gryffindor Challenge: (trait) daring,

 _Word count:_ 752

* * *

The noise was what drew him in. The noise, the cheers, and the laughter. It cut through the dark cloud hanging over Sirius' head so sharply that he couldn't help but jerk his head a little.

He had left his home — again — after another fight with his mother. He had had too — he had seen the rage in her face, and he knew it meant that it was only a matter of instants before the woman took out her wand and started cursing.

He had fled as fast and far as he could manage on foot, and he was now utterly lost, somewhere in Muggle London. But that was fine; it only meant that it would be harder for anyone coming after him — if they ever did — to find him.

As he walked, the cheers grew louder.

The crowd seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, and Sirius nearly got trampled for his efforts before someone seized his arms and pulled him out.

He was greeted by laughing eyes and multicolored hair. The man wore makeup too, and it was so jarring that Sirius gaped for what felt like forever. He couldn't have been much older than Sirius himself, but he looked so free and happy that it took Sirius' breath away, just a little.

His savior laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "First time you've come to Pride, huh? It can be a little overwhelming — but don't worry, you'll get used to it. I'm Mark."

Finally, Sirius found his voice. "Sirius."

"Wait, really?"

Wordless, Sirius nodded, eyes drawn back to the crowd that seemed to pulsate with its own heartbeat. "Pride?"

The newly-dubbed Mark startled. "You mean you don't know?"

Sirius shook his head, and after another shocked look, Mark called his friends over to help him explain.

"This," Mark finished after some truly dizzying explanations about sexualities Sirius had never dared to think about, "is where we come to be ourselves."

One of Mark's friends — his boyfriend Joshua, actually — put his arm around Mark's shoulders to pull him closer. He eyed Sirius curiously. "So, anyone special in your life? Any boy?"

"Or girl?" Mark added with a smile.

An hour ago, Sirius would have said 'No, there isn't anyone'. But that was before. Now, he had words he'd never known running around in his head, and he couldn't stop thinking about Remus — about his stupid hair and his stupid scares he felt so ashamed of and his stupid golden eyes.

Sirius swallowed. "I — Maybe. I don't know. I think… Maybe." He looked up. "A boy."

Mark and his boyfriend cheered. "I knew it!" Mark crowed. Joshua gave him a thumbs up.

"So, do you want any advice for wooing your boy?"

Sirius let out a startled bark of laughter. "I think I'll be fine." His mind was already racing, trying to come up with a plan. Remus was usually the planner in their group, but Sirius was no slouch either.

He would have to be careful, he knew. Make Remus fall in love with him — sneak past his defenses, before Remus could go back to his trademark werewolf argument.

It would be difficult — but for the chance that Remus might return his newfound feelings? It would be worth it.

"Well, that's good." Mark's voice pulled him out of his musings and Sirius barely managed to refrain from jumping.

He nodded, mind already half back to his planning. "Yeah, it's good." He smiled. "Thank you. And you," he added, turning toward Joshua and Mark's other friends. "You've really helped me."

Mark smiled back, a gently thing that seemed to make his entire face shine. "You're very welcome. Now, come on, you should join us."

Sirius got back late that night — but at least the Knight Bus was good for something, as it left him right in front of his door. His mother yelled at him for it and for his appearance, of course, but Sirius was still too high on the excitement of his day to care.

She forbade Kreacher from bringing him food — not that Sirius would trust him if he did — but that was fine too. He had already eaten.

He ended up collapsing on his bed, fully-clothed, hair still full of glitter.

He dreamt of rainbow flags and amber eyes that night, and woke up with Remus' name on his lips.

It was the first time, but it wouldn't be the last.


	15. forgetting spells (EdgarFabian)

Written for Hogwarts' Garage Sale Competition: hat, the Gardening Assignment Task 7 - Larkspur: Write fluff, Writing Club: Amber's Attic: Tattoos 5. Pin-Up Girl: Write about someone dressing up, Count Your Buttons: W3: Freckles, Lyric Alley: 17 I'm not scared to be seen,Ami's Audio Admirations: The C-List — Write about something rare, Sophie's Shelf: 34. Edgar/Fabian, Em's Emporium: Amber (Cheeky Slytherin Lass): Write about a character with less then 50 fics in the archives, August Auction: (word) glitter.

 _Word count:_ 474

* * *

 _ **forgetting spells**_

Edgar loved Fabian. He had been in love with Fabian for years, ever since their fifth year and Fabian had ended up drenched with water in an (un)fortunate accident during Charms.

(Edgar still liked to reminisce about it some days.)

Edgar would do anything for Fabian. Anything.

It was just a little hard to remember this when Fabian insisted on behaving like an idiot child whenever he saw a clothing store, where he just 'had to' try on everything.

His current obsession seemed to be hats, and despite having only been there for less than ten minutes, Edgar already wished there was some spell to scrub this event from his memory.

Well, he guessed there was always _Obliviate_ , but that seemed a bit extreme.

"What do you think?"

Startled, Edgar looked up. Fabian flashed him a grin before turning back to the mirror — which, for some reason, complimented his choice of headwear like it wasn't the most horrid thing in the world — pulling more and more ridiculous faces with each passing second.

" _No_ ," Edgar said, rubbing his temples. "Just no."

Even if he closed his eyes, he thought he could still see that glittering yellow. It made Fabian's red hair look tame in comparison, and gave his skin a sickly tinge — Edgar had no idea why Fabian would ever even consider trying it on.

Meanwhile, Fabian nodded. "You're right," he said.

"I am?" Edgar almost choked.

Fabian rolled his eyes at him. "It's not eccentric enough." He turned to the next hat on the pile, and put it on with a flourish.

It was, somehow, worse than the previous one, and Edgar started to seriously consider casting _Obliviate_ on himself. It couldn't be that hard a spell, surely.

"You know," Edgar found himself saying as Fabian's hat started twinkling red and gold lights, "you could always leave the role of the eccentric uncle to Gideon."

Fabian gasped. It was, Edgar thought fondly, at least half-fake. "And be the boring one?"

Edgar shook his head, laughing. "I don't think you could ever be boring. Now, why don't you just bring them some pranking supplies and leave the hats behind?"

Fabian's eyes lit up with delighted mischief. "That's an excellent idea. But," he said, deflating a little, "you know Molly will kill me for that, right?"

"I'll take the blame." Edgar smiled. "You know your sister likes me better anyway."

Fabian snorted. "You mean you have her fooled into thinking you are a 'respectable young man'."

Edgar smirked. " _I am_ a respectable young man."

"In your dreams, maybe," Fabian retorted.

Edgar only arched back an eyebrow, and Fabian flushed red, his freckles darkening. He coughed and pulled at his collar. "Right. Anyways… Let's go?" He beat a hasty retreat, and Edgar followed, laughing.

Perhaps he wouldn't need the _Obliviate_ , after all.


	16. birthday letter (Wolfstar)

Written for Hogwarts' Auction Event: Wolfstar, the Garage Sale Competition: teapot, Insane House: Character - Remus Lupin, Snape Appreciation Challenge: 5: write a post-war fic, the Writing Club: Em's Emporium 12: Liza (NeonDomino): (pairing) Wolfstar.

 _Word count:_ 597

* * *

 _ **birthday letter**_

Remus can tell that today is going to be one of these days from the moment he wakes up, stretching across an empty bed. It's not rare for him to wake after Sirius, but it is rare for Sirius to be gone by the time Remus starts to stir.

For the bed to be cold enough where Sirius sleeps that Remus can feel the difference is almost unheard of.

Groaning and sighing, Remus wraps himself in a fluffy — and warm — dressing gown. It is wolf-themed, because Sirius is a child, even at thirty-plus years, and Remus had been unable to resist the combination of his and Harry's puppy dog eyes when they had offered him this gift last Christmas.

He walks slowly toward the kitchen, yawning and dragging his feet a little.

As expected, Sirius is there, Remus can thankfully smell freshly-brewed tea.

However, the owl Sirius is having a staring contest with is very much not expected.

"What the…?" Remus says.

Sirius startles, almost falling off his chair, though he somehow manages not to break off eye contact with the owl.

"Shh, Moony, I'm winning! I'll have this bird on the run soon!"

Remus shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Good morning to you too, Sirius." He pours himself a cup of tea, puts back the teapot, and sits down. He makes quick work of his tea, and once his cup is empty, he feels awake enough to at least attempt to deal with Sirius' newest whim.

He peers in around Sirius and takes a closer at the owl — or rather, at what it is carrying.

The seal is unmistakable, and Remus reaches forward to take the letter, smiling. "Is that Harry's letter?"

Sirius breaks the contest to look up at Remus, betrayed. The owl, its letter delivered, sends Sirius one last dark look before flying away. "I was winning, Moony," he whines.

Remus rolls his eyes at him. "You know refusing the letter doesn't work, don't you? Harry's the only one who can say he won't go, and you know he won't."

Sirius pouts. "But he's too young! He can't go!"

Remus huffs a fond laugh. "He turns eleven today. Everyone goes to Hogwarts at eleven."

Sirius looks at him with feverish eyes. "We can still hide the letter," he says. "Pretend it never came."

Remus shakes his head. "Harry would never forgive us. And it would never work — it's his birthday, he knows he's going to get his letter."

Sirius' face falls. "I just wish he would stay here, where it's safe, forever."

Remus feels his smile softens and he reaches forward, grabbing Sirius' hand and squeezing it softly. He brings it up and lays a kiss against Sirius' palm.

"He'll be fine," he says. "Nothing will happen to Harry at Hogwarts — we survived, didn't we?"

Sirius snorts and shoots him a fond look. "Merlin, I hope his school years are less eventful than ours. Can you imagine?"

Remus shivers at the thought. They had had fun, and he wouldn't trade his school years for anything in the world, but he thanks Merlin every day that Harry seems to have (somehow) inherited his mother's temperament rather than his father's mischievous traits.

"He'll be fine," he repeats.

Sirius sighs. "I know. I just… worry, that's all."

Remus smiles. "Of course you do. Now, why don't you go wake Harry up, and I'll start on breakfast."

Sirius' eyes soften and he leans in for a quick kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too." Remus laughs. "Now go."


	17. carpe(t) diem (Drarry)

Written for Hogwarts' Insane House Challenge: Word Count - 610 words, Auction: slash, the Writing Club: Em's Emporium - Ned (Isaacswolfsbane): (sexuality) Bisexual, the Garage Sale Competition: carpet.

 _Word count:_ 610

* * *

 _ **carpe(t) diem**_

"You have a lovely house, Mrs. Malfoy. I really love your carpet," were Harry's first words upon entering the Malfoys' house, right after he wiped his feet on their elegant doormat.

He immediately wished the floor would swallow him up, and from the slightly horrified and disbelieving look Draco sent him, he too wished he had never brought Harry home.

But Mrs. Malfoy recovered from her surprised so quickly Harry thought he had imagined it. "Thank you," she said. "It was a gift — from Draco's father, actually. And it's Narcissa, please. I've been given to understand that you're almost family, now." The last part was pointedly directed at her son, though she still smiled at Harry.

" _Mother_ ," Draco said, and Harry knew him well enough by now to know he was embarrassed. Smiling, Harry took his hand and squeezed it in support.

Narcissa's sharp eyes didn't miss it, and Harry thought he could see approval flash through them.

"What?" she asked, arching an eyebrow innocently. "Was that supposed to be a secret? You so rarely introduce us to your boyfriends — or girlfriends — I took it to mean this was special."

And just like that, Harry could see Draco in her — they both had the same sharpness, the same way of making somebody feel _lesser_ with just a few words. Draco had been like this when they'd met too, and if it wasn't for Snape sticking them together on a Chemistry assignment last year, they probably would never have talked long enough for Harry to see past that veneer of carefully maintained disdain.

"Father really gave you that carpet?"

It sounded like Draco was desperate for a subject change, and Harry bit his cheek so he wouldn't laugh.

"Yes, dear," Narcissa replied, her own amusement visible on her face. "It was something of a gag gift, though — a souvenir from our trip to Marrakech before Draco was born." She turned toward Harry, smiling. "You see, there was a mix-up with the plane, and we —"

"Didn't actually end up in Marrakech," Harry finished for her. He smiled at Draco fondly, nudging him in the side. "Draco told me all about it."

Narcissa looked surprised, and her eyes sharpened a little as she gazed between Harry and her son. This time, when she smiled, it was less sharp — truer, somehow, and closer to the unguarded smiles Harry sometimes managed to draw from Draco when it was just the two of them.

"He did, didn't he?" she said.

Harry paused, frowning. "Did I say something wrong?"

Narcissa shook her head, still smiling. "Not at all, dear, not at all. I just wasn't expecting you to know this story. But that's enough about all this — let us journey to the living-room. I'm sure you both have a lot to tell me while we wait for Lucius to come home."

And with that, she started to lead them further into the house. Harry took this as an opportunity to lean in toward Draco and whisper in his ear, "Does that mean I pass?"

Draco chuckled. "Yes, Potter, you passed."

Harry rolled his eyes fondly. "You know, we've been together for almost two years. You can stop calling me Potter."

"You like it when I call you Potter, Potter." Draco smirked as Harry shivered a little, his eyebrow arched as if to say, 'see what I mean?'.

"Whatever," Harry retorted, his cheeks burning. "Think your father will like me too?"

Draco shrugged. "Well, normally I would say no, but you've already charmed my mother, somehow, and you're _you_ , so… Anything is possible."

Harry almost laughed. "I love you too."


	18. empty chairs (FredLee)

Written for Hogwarts' Garage Sale Event: chair, the Writing Club: Sophie's Shelf: 20. Fred/Lee, Em's Emporium 5: Abby (Cookies and Ink): write about a survivor, Bex's Bazaar: Fun Facts 1: write about a large event in someone's life, Romance Awareness: Day 3 - You stop aging at a certain age, until you meet your soulmate and grow old together, Insane House: Song - Hotel California - The Eagles.

 _Word count:_ 433

* * *

 _ **empty chairs**_

"I miss you."

The room is empty, and Lee doesn't expect an answer, but still, for some inexplicable reason, the silence hurts.

Fred's chair is still there, half pulled up from his desk. His jacket is there, messily thrown over the back, and Lee knows it would smell like him if he ventured close enough.

He doesn't dare to. He stays there, standing in the entrance — this is (was) Fred's space, and for all that Lee had always been welcome in it, entering it without Fred's laughter to greet him is _wrong wrong wrong_.

Fred is everywhere in their apartment, for all that he won't ever return now — and that is painful beyond words too, the way every little thing is a reminder of the man Lee loves.

Loved.

Loves?

(Does love die when the person you love dies? It doesn't feel like it, but it hurts to love someone who is gone. It's like a part of him is shouting out into the void, like a rope was left out hanging into the darkness, only there is nobody on the other end.)

(Does love even have a tense?)

Everything is just a reminder that Fred meant to come back, that he never believed he could die.

Fred thought himself immortal, and he should have been.

He should have been, because everyone knew you could only die after you'd met your soulmate, and Fred is (had been) too young for that to have happened.

Or it should have been.

They had never talked about it. Lee doesn't even know if Fred _knew_ the way Lee did. Had Fred noticed the way he'd kept again, even after his seventeenth birthday? Had he seen the lines on his face, or perhaps some graying hair?

Or had he gone out to the fight thinking he was still young, still frozen in time, immortal in a way he had never been — not since he'd been eleven, and greeted a boy carrying a tarantula with a grin and an invitation to sit.

Lee doesn't even know which version of events he's hoping for, and he hates himself for it.

He hates himself for being (having been) Fred's soulmate.

Without him, Fred would still be there, after all. Still alive, still grinning, still making a mess of Lee's life, telling him soulmates shouldn't matter as much as choice.

"I miss you," he repeats, and the words echo into the silence again.

But this time, it feels like the silence whispers back.

" _Don't_ ," it says, but when Lee spins around, there is nobody there.

There never is.


	19. before the fall (DeanPiers)

Written for Hogwarts' Garage Sale Competition: ball, the Writing Club: Amber's Attic: 2. New School- Write about someone or something childish, Count Your Buttons: O3 - lollipop, Sophie's Shelf: 19. Dean/Piers, Bex's Bazaar: Dumbo 5: [Theme] Bullying - Write from a bully's perspective, Auction: Character: Dean Thomas, Insane House: Emotion - Happy.

 _Word count:_ 378

* * *

 _ **before the fall**_

"Can I play with you guys? I have my own ball."

Piers paused, eyeing the new kid at the same time as everyone else in the group did. He was small, but not small like Dudley's freaky cousin was small. Small like he'd be good at running quick, but also like he wouldn't just take a beating without hitting back.

He was black though, and Piers wasn't too sure what to think about that — he knew what his father would say (and do), and even what Dudley would, but he also knew that his mother would disagree with them.

And neither Dudley nor his father were here today — Piers's mother had taken him with her, and they had gone on holidays, just the two of them — so Piers shrugged and deferred to everyone else's opinion.

It was cowardly of him, maybe, but Piers was tired of arguing all the time. His parents did it enough at home.

They voted, and the boy was added into the group — it was lucky, too, because his ball was far superior to the one they'd had, and with him around, they finally had an even number and could split into two equal teams.

The boy, who introduced himself as Dean, turned out to be not only as fast as Piers had thought he would be, but also wickedly good at soccer.

Piers had never been that glad to have someone on his team. Ever.

After Dean scored his second goal — their team's third — Piers clapped him on the shoulder, grinning so wide his mouth hurt.

And Dean wasn't only good at soccer. He was also funny and kind, with a smart mouth that would have gotten Piers smacked more than once had he tried even half of what Dean had done.

They shared an ice-cream after the match was over and Dean gave him a lollipop. Piers was still grinning when his mother came to pick him up. He told her all about Dean that evening.

It would take him years to understand why she'd looked so sad as she listened to him, or why she'd pulled him into that hug, saying, "Oh, honey," in a tone so full of sorrow even Piers' chest had ached.


End file.
